There to Remind Me
by Paceismyhero
Summary: Short oneshot set in season 6, basically inspired by my Puckleberry addiction and the fact that the current season just doesn't flow with that addiction. No spoilers at all; just fiction. Rated T for random curse. Please read and review!


**Author's Note:** So I'm working on some other pieces (one each for two different fandoms), but this idea got stuck in my head quick and sort of took over my life for an afternoon. I really have no excuse - especially since I don't even _watch_ _Glee_ anymore - but I fell into a worm hole on You Tube and saw a clip of Sam/Quinn from one of the first episodes in season 6 and thought, "Well that would kill two birds with one stone, wouldn't it?" Although, to be fair, this really is just a friendship piece (even if there are some subtle undertones that more could brew for our beloved Puckleberry).

Regardless, thank you to those who take the time to read my stuff. And HUGE thank you to those who go the extra mile to review it, too.

Disclaimer: I definitely don't own _Glee_ or any of its characters (though I'm sure they'd be a cheap purchase on the black market these days), but I also don't own the song where the title of the story was inspired; it's Joshua Radin's "Old Friend" from his new album. The song doesn't really apply to the story outside of the line used (you were standing behind me, there to remind me / that someone still cares) but I've been listening to the album on repeat since it came out and plan to use it more than once for my writing.

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><p><em>Sam and Quinn had sex.<em>

She doesn't really have time to figure out whether Mercedes is telling her because she's upset or because she's a gossip. The second after the black woman spills the beans via text, Rachel's on her feet and preparing to leave the house. It's late for Lima - nearly ten at night - and she does have glee the next day, but nothing stops her from changing out of her pajama pants into a pair of jeans and toeing on some flats before hurrying downstairs. She tells her dads she's going out for a few hours while putting on her coat, promising to text them on her way back (all while trying not to lament the fact that she's old enough to drink but not old enough to come and go as she pleases). It would only take her five minutes to get to his house if she took her car, but considering the reason for her visit and the person she's seeking, Rachel knows better than to assume alcohol won't be involved at some point. So she stuffs her hands in her coat pockets and begins the trek toward the Puckerman's, oddly too consumed with wishing she were faster to think about everything that _should _be crossing her mind.

Like, she should have seen this coming.

A record twelve minutes later, Rachel removes one of her hands from her light jacket and knocks quietly on the Puckerman front door. A soft smile winds onto her face when she hears the yelling from inside, each of the three occupants demanding one of the other two to answer the door before finally heavy footsteps can be heard getting closer and closer. Mrs. Puckerman is far too light to make such noise, and it is too harsh to be coming from the younger girl, either. Rachel holds her breath and watches the doorknob turn, her head bowing slightly even though her eyes shift up to greet him.

"Jesus. That didn't take long," he groans, letting the door continue to open despite his sudden departure.

Rachel sighs at the smell of alcohol that wafts around her, stepping into the house and closing the door behind her nonetheless. Absently she hears the television on in the living room and assumes Noah's sister is downstairs. It's confirmed when round two of the yelling starts, where Noah explains who was at the door and then Mrs. Puckerman tells Sarah that it's time for bed. The chaos of the house amuses her, but her smile fades just as quickly as the volume does, her breath catching in her throat as she focuses on Noah staring at her.

"What do you want, Berry?"

She hears the exhaustion in his tone, though it isn't buried too deeply. There's a hint of anger and just a touch of surprise, but the rest is shroud in a kind of fatigue that she's never seen on him; Noah has lived through worse in his life than a girlfriend cheating on him, yet she's never seen him look quite so broken. She hopes she's learned not to be as transparent with her own misgivings. "I just … wanted to check on you."

It is at that moment when she realizes perhaps she _should_ have spent some of her walk over thinking about why she had been so compelled to visit him in the middle of the night after hearing the news of Sam and Quinn's infidelity. She and Noah were friends, of course, but a simple text message could have sufficed. She could have easily just spoken to him tomorrow at glee, since everyone had been helping long enough now that she'd learned which days to expect certain people and which days not to. Plus, there was always the fact that he wasn't exactly someone who easily divulged his feelings, so there was reason to believe making any sort of effort would have been futile, no matter the method.

Yet, here she is. Standing in the Puckerman kitchen with him, not necessarily feeling guilty or even remotely responsible, but feeling _something _- which was new for her as of late and obviously enough to propel her to visit. "I thought you might need a friend."

"What I _need_ is a girlfriend who didn't fuck around on me."

She watches him sadly, sees the way his normally unwavering form starts to sway in agitation - she knows it's not from inebriation; whether he restrained himself from having too much or binged early and was now sobering up, it wasn't clear. It escalates quickly, though, and all the level-headedness and control he's learning in the military takes a backseat to the quick temper he's had since he was a young boy. His fists clench at his sides as he starts to pace, looking like a caged animal in the small room.

"Noah," she attempts to calm him with the sympathy in her tone, but his eyes flare on hers and she regrets it immediately. "Do you want me to leave?" He looks away in a huff and she can't help the slight smile that inches onto her face; that was as close to a refusal as he'd ever give, especially to her. "Would you like to talk about it?"

He snorts again and she nods, having suspected the answer to that one even before she'd finished. Her eyes shift around the area, noticing they are all alone now and the house had quieted enough where the only sound left is the slight hum of the refrigerator behind her. It's a symptom of the small town, she knows, and something she still is having trouble getting reacquainted with after living in New York and then LA. And she figures if she's feeling a bit isolated, she can only imagine he's feeling even more trapped.

"Shall we go for a walk?" She shrugs emptily when he stops his erratic movement to question her with just his eyes. "It's quite nice out for October."

It isn't the most convincing argument, but he agrees with the bob of his head. He grabs a hoodie that's slung over one of the chairs by the front, and holds the door open for her as they exit his house and start toward nowhere in particular. It is nearly eleven on a weeknight in Lima, so their options for actual destinations is limited to a bar in the seedy part of town and a few convenience stores, neither of which she feels too inclined to patron. On some subconscious level Noah must agree, too, because he's walking in the complete opposite direction of anything - her house, his house … civilization.

"So who told you?"

She hesitates for only a moment. "Mercedes."

"Figures," he scoffs, then sighs heavily. "So everyone knows."

She nods her head less because she knows for sure he's right and more because she'd assume the same thing based on the source. Rachel wouldn't be surprised if the new kids in glee knew by the end of tomorrow, one way or another. "H-how did _you_ find out?"

"Q came over this mornin', blubbering like a bitch."

She bows her head at the harshness of his tone, but she also isn't going to reprimand him; he's owed far more anger than he's shown thus far. In fact, she'd compliment him on his decorum if she didn't think he'd instantly add her to the list of people he's pissed at. She kind of likes that she's never been on that list - to her knowledge - and wants to keep it that way. Although, she isn't quite sure why it matters so much.

"She said it was a mistake and it didn't mean anything, but … _fuck_."

Reluctantly, she wonders what Sam would say of the situation. She hates to place her friends on unlevel pedestals, but she can't fathom this being something Sam would do on a whim. Quinn, however, despite all her maturing and everything she's dealt with through the years, is still the kind of girl who loves being wanted. She craves the attention, seeks it out, too. And she's still obviously the kind of girl who thinks that just because it didn't mean anything to her, it shouldn't mean anything to anyone else.

"I guess I had it comin'. Karma or whatever."

"That is neither true nor relevant, Noah," she states firmly, finally finding her voice despite keeping her previous thoughts to herself. "No one deserves to be treated like this, like an afterthought."

She didn't allow herself to consider why he'd been her first thought after she'd heard the news before continuing, "You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for." Their eyes meet in the corners of each of their peripheries, and she decides to lighten the mood to keep herself from saying anything else that might reveal just how unlevel Noah's pedestal is in comparison to all her other friends. "You are only _half_ as bad as you used to be."

She giggles at his half-attempted laugh, allowing the silence to pass between them comfortably as they continue walking. Realistically, Noah isn't anything like he was at the beginning of high school. Between everything that happened with Beth and then Shelby, then barely graduating, and finally Finn's death, that Puck persona completely faded away and turned into what she's come to realize is an incredible man. He's still impossibly crass and annoyingly arrogant, but she knows he wouldn't be nearly as charming without either of those things.

"I'mma probably stop helpin' with glee … at least for a lil' bit."

She nods through her slight pout. "I understand."

"I'm sorry."

She turns to look at him, smiling a little when she sees he's already looking at her, his expression completely serious and adorably genuine. "I know." She shrugs playfully, widening her stride a bit so he can't see her face when she confesses, "I won't lie and say I'm not going to miss having an excuse to see you everyday."

He grins for the first time all night, and suddenly he isn't so different from his high-school self as she once thought. "Guess your dreams are gonna haveta do, baby."

She shakes her head to insinuate the laughter is out of reflex and not actual amusement, but mostly she's just thinking that he's going to be just fine. And, when he nudges her shoulder before inviting her arm to rest on the inside crook of his elbow, she thinks maybe she will be, too.


End file.
